


Devotion - Do you remember?

by Omelia99



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Blood, F/F, Inspired by The Vampire Diaries, Love, Love Triangles, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28933221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omelia99/pseuds/Omelia99
Summary: Imagine Damon lost all memory of Elena after his werewolf bite. ∆ As he searches for a solution to his problem, Damon learns more and more about the intricacies of his situation and a new creature emerges from the shadows into the light. Plus there is the forgiven search for his brother and a girl he seems to have loved once, but only the warm feeling in his heart is testimony to it, not one shared memory. Will he manage to break the spell or will sweet hopes continue to crash like waves on hard rock? // Delena/Damon-OC Fanfiction.
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson, Damon Salvatore/Original Female Character(s), Elena Gilbert/Damon Salvatore





	Devotion - Do you remember?

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own The Vampire Diaries nor the characters from the show. Only my own fictional ones. 
> 
> I am from Germany. 
> 
> I am trying hard to write in perfect grammar and I hope there aren't any bad ass crazy mistakes. If so, please tell me! I am here to learn. 
> 
> So far so good, enjoy my story!

_Chapter 1_

Damon Salvatore flipped up the sun visor of his car after bringing it to a stop. The evening sun was breaking in the slightly dirty windshield and he decided to have the car cleaned tomorrow. But first he had to take care of something else, something less simple.

Briskly, the driver's door opened, but no one was in sight. With pursed lips and shrugging his shoulders, Damon accepted the friendly invitation to get out of his car and amusedly slammed the door shut again behind him.

Of course she knew he was there - witches had an uncannily good sense for the presence of a vampire. And for that of a Salvatore especially.

The gravel of the driveway crunched under his boots and uncomfortable autumn wind blew up, creating a tangle of leaves and grains of sand that blocked his view.

»Really, Neveah?« he muttered through clenched teeth, making the fifty yards from his car to the front door in less than a second. He would not give himself the nerve to fight through the swirling leaves.

Besides, he knew his hostess was watching him.

His gaze swept around the front door and he looked for a bell, but could not discover one. Only a large, gilded doorknocker was emblazoned in the center of the high-quality crafted wooden door.

»Modest« he muttered, grasping the knocker with pointed fingers and raised eyebrows. At first, his listless knock was followed by nothing but beguiling silence, and indecisively Damon looked around. She knew he was there, but was making him squirm, and he didn't like that. Usually it was the other way around and he was the one playing games with others.

Nothing happened the second time either. Impatiently, Damon decided that it would probably be easier to pry the door off its hinges than to get Neveah to let him in.

»I have a bottle of _1932 Rivesaltes_ sitting on my passenger seat just waiting to be generously given away. Well, how does that sound to your ears?« he called out into the cool afternoon air.

Just then, the front door burst open and a small, friendly-looking woman in her mid-twenties stared back at him with fists balled on her hips. Her blonde hair swirled around in another move in. She tilted her head and tapped her left foot impatiently on the stone floor of the entryway.

Damon quickly fished the wine bottle from the passenger seat and tossed it from one hand to the other, not three feet from the doorstep.

»I guess you'll have to let me in if you want it« he smirked. That smirk was quickly wiped from his face, however, as with a blink Neveah made sure the bottle flew out of his hand and into hers.

»Come on« he sighed, raising his arms in the air. »I don't intend to cause any mischief. In fact, I want to take advantage of your big heart and generosity.«

»Funny, you said the exact same thing three years ago. Only back then you made use of the word _please_ \- today you seem to have forgotten it.«

»Four years ago« he corrected her with a raised finger. »Will you let me in? _Please?_ « he trailed off, bowing theatrically a little.

»Give me one good reason why I should.« Neveah set the wine bottle on the floor in front of her, then crossed her arms in front of her chest.

»Because - and now hold on, you're going to love this - I intend to do you a favor, too, in return for your sacrificial gesture of goodwill.«

Neveah didn't look like she would believe a word he said, but she knew he wouldn't let up until she invited him in. So she stepped aside and invited him into her home.

Even from a distance, Damon had noticed the large white mansion resting in New York's suburbs, obviously owned by the young witch whose help he needed. It was an old, but modern furnished mansion with a spacious entrance hall, in which a polished wing found place. A staircase led up on the left, one down on the right. They walked along to the right.

Whistling impressively, Damon looked at the cellar-like vault into which Neveah had led him. In the left corner was an adequately stocked bar with a massive counter. In the center was a large, blood-red carpet, already frayed in some places. Otherwise, just about every free spot was covered with countless candles, which immediately ignited as soon as Neveah entered the room.

As if it were a matter of course, Damon helped himself to the bar's bourbon and propped his elbows on the counter. On the other side, Neveah did the same, staring back at him with distinct suspicion.

»So, what do you want?« she interjected into the silence.

Damon let the last sip melt on his tongue before he took pity on himself to answer. 

»Well...« he swung his glass back and forth and frowned. He didn't like having to ask for help, but in this case it was unavoidable.

»Uh oh. I know that look all too well. Spit it out.« Impatiently, Neveah propped her chin in her on her folded hands.

He cleared his throat, then replied »Let's say a certain vampire was bitten by a werewolf not worth mentioning. However, this said vampire was able to be healed by the blood of a hybrid asshole. Well, the vampire wakes up from his delirium and _wham_ \- all memories of a very specific person and time period fizzle out into eternal nothingness. What's the diagnosis, Hexi?«

»Spontaneously, I'd say premature dementia.« She pushed herself off the wood of the counter and sighed. »Damon, I can't help you. I'm sorry.«

She turned, but before she could take a step toward the exit, Damon was standing in front of her as well.

»Dearest Neveah. You're about the witchiest witch after Bonnie Bennett I've ever met. That you can't help me, I dare to doubt.«

Desperately, he clutched her upper arms but then burned himself against her bare skin. Vervain. Only now did he smell the acrid scent of the herb, which surrounded her like a cloud of parfum. She knew what she was doing and how to protect herself.

»I'll take that as a compliment. But, I - if you've gotten yourself into trouble with Klaus, I can't help you."

She faced him with a determined and almost fearful look.

»Funny, I didn't even mention him.«

Neveah sighed despondently. »If you think you can escape any problem involving this man, you are mistaken. Submit to your fate, Damon. Will you leave my house willingly or will I have to ask you uncomfortably?«

Finally, despite all the reluctance on her part, Damon had managed to get a grimoire from her, in which, however, she herself was not willing to look for a solution to his problem. Opening the thick, old and fragile book on the steering wheel, he tried to decipher the Latin words and formulas, but he might as well have been looking at hieroglyphics on a rock face. He sighed and slammed it shut. Dust swirled through the interior of his car and he opened a window. Then he started the engine and sped away.

Now he would have to do something even more unpleasant. He would ask Bonnie Bennett for help.


End file.
